Maybe she was used to her interviewees getting upset, but the young detective’s expression didn’t even register Hiromi’s comment.
‘When you came over with the Ikais for that party, did you open the refrigerator at all?’ Utsumi asked.
‘Excuse me, the refrigerator?’
‘Yes. There should have been some bottles of mineral water inside. Did you notice them at the time?’
‘Well, yes, I did. I actually went to get a bottle that night.’
‘Do you remember how many bottles were inside?’
‘How could I remember a thing like that? There were a couple, I guess.’
‘One or two bottles, then? More?’
‘I just told you I don’t remember. They were in a row, though, so maybe four or five?’ Hiromi said, her voice getting louder.
‘Right,’ the detective replied, her face as expressionless as a Noh mask. ‘You told us that just before his death, Mr Mashiba invited you over. Was that a frequent occurrence?’
‘No, that was the first time ever.’
‘Why do you think he did that? On that day in particular?’
‘Well, because Ayane had gone back to her parents’ home in Sapporo, I guess.’
‘So that was the first time an opportunity like that had presented itself?’
‘Yes, that’s part of it. He probably also wanted to tell me in person, as quickly as possible, that Ayane had agreed to the divorce.’
‘I see,’ Utsumi said, nodding. ‘Do you know anything about their hobbies?’
‘Hobbies?’ Hiromi echoed, raising an eyebrow at the sudden shift in topic.
‘Mr and Mrs Mashiba’s hobbies. Did they play any sports? Did they like to travel, or go for drives?’
Hiromi shrugged. ‘I know Mr Mashiba played tennis and golf, but I don’t think Ayane had any hobbies per se. Just patchwork and cooking.’
‘How did they spend their time off together?’
‘Sorry,’ Hiromi replied, ‘I don’t know much about that.’
‘Anything is fine,’ the detective told her.
‘Well, I know that Ayane was usually working on her patchwork. And I guess Mr Mashiba watched DVDs sometimes.’
‘Which room did Ayane use to work on her patchwork when she was at home?’
‘The living room, I think,’ Hiromi said, starting to wonder where all this was leading. The questions seemed entirely random.
‘Did they ever go on trips together?’
‘I know that right after their wedding they went to Europe – Paris and London. I don’t think they went on any trips after that, except when Mr Mashiba went somewhere on business.’
‘What about shopping? Did you ever go out shopping with Mrs Mashiba?’
‘Sure. We bought cloth for the patchwork school together all the time.’
‘Was that on Sundays, too?’
‘No. We went on weekdays, before class started. There was usually a lot, so we would bring it to the classroom right from the store.’
Utsumi nodded and scribbled something in her notebook. ‘Thanks for your time. That’s all the questions I have for now.’
‘Sorry, I have to ask,’ Hiromi said, ‘why were you asking me all those things? I couldn’t tell at all what you were getting at.’
‘Which question in particular were you wondering about?’
‘All of them. What do hobbies and going shopping have to do with the case?’
After a moment’s hesitation, Utsumi smiled. ‘It’s okay if you don’t understand. It has to do with a theory we’re working on.’
‘Can you tell me what it is?’
‘Sorry,’ she replied, standing quickly. ‘That’s against the rules.’
Utsumi apologized again for the intrusion and showed herself out.
TWENTY-ONE
‘When she asked me why I was asking those questions, I had no idea what to tell her. What could I say when even I didn’t understand them?’ Utsumi picked up her coffee cup. ‘You know, they tell us to always have a clear goal in mind when questioning someone.’ She had brought the results from her latest round of questioning to share with Yukawa in his laboratory.
‘Well, that’s an excellent policy, most of the time,’ Yukawa said, looking up from her report. ‘But what we’re trying to do here is to determine whether or not an extremely unusual, unprecedented crime has taken place. Determining the existence or nonexistence of something extraordinary is never a straightforward task, and those who set themselves to do it are often overly swayed by their preconceived notions. You’ve heard of the physicist René-Prosper Blondlot – wait, no, of course you haven’t heard of him.’
‘I haven’t.’
‘He was a French researcher active in the latter half of the nineteenth century. Blondlot announced the discovery of a new kind of radiation late in his career. These “N-rays”, as he termed them, had the effect of making electrical sparks appear brighter. It was hailed as an epoch-making discovery, and sent the whole physics world into a tizzy. However, in the end, N-rays were shown not to exist after all. No matter how much researchers from other countries tried, no one could duplicate the results or increase the sparks’ brightness.’
‘So it was a sham?’
‘Not a sham, exactly. Because Blondlot himself believed in the N-rays’ existence until the day he died.’
‘How does that work?’
‘Well, for one thing, Blondlot was judging the brightness of the electrical sparks by his own eyes alone. That was the origin of his error. The increase in brightness due to the supposed application of N-rays wasn’t an actual effect, but nonetheless he saw it – simply because he desired to see it.’
‘That seems like a pretty blatant mistake for a respected physicist to make.’
‘I told you that story to illustrate the inherent danger of preconceptions. Which is why I sent you to that interview without any background information. As a result, you were able to give me extremely objective information.’ Yukawa returned his eyes to the report.
‘So, what’s the verdict? Are we still dealing with an imaginary solution?’
Yukawa just stared at the paper in his hand. A deep wrinkle formed between his eyebrows. ‘Several bottles in the fridge, huh?’ he said, half to himself.
‘I thought that was strange, too,’ Utsumi said. ‘Mrs Mashiba told us that she never let their stock of bottles run out. But on the day after she went to her parents’ house, they were down to one bottle. What do you think it means?’
Yukawa crossed his arms and closed his eyes.
‘Professor?’ she said, half afraid he’d fallen asleep.
‘Impossible,’ came the physicist’s reply.
‘What’s impossible?’
‘It just couldn’t be, and yet …’ Yukawa took off his glasses, pressed his fingertips to his eyelids, and said nothing more.
TWENTY-TWO
Kusanagi made his way up Kagurazaka-dori Avenue from Iidabashi station, taking a left immediately after the Bish -amonten temple. At the top of the steep slope was his destination, an office building on the right-hand side of the road.
Plates with the names of the resident businesses hung on the wall just inside the front entrance. Kunugi Publishing was on the second floor.
There was an elevator, but Kusanagi took the stairs. This turned out to be extremely awkward due to the large number of cardboard boxes stacked in the stairwell. It was a flagrant violation of fire codes, but he decided not to mention it – at least, not today.
He peeked in through the wide-open door at the top of the stairs and saw several employees sitting at their desks. The woman closest to the door noticed Kusanagi and came over.
‘Can I help you?’